A Better Future
by Lozateazer
Summary: RENTfic. Combines my two of my favorite things. Bowie and M/R! Wootz!


Title: A Better Future

Author: Logan M. (Lozateazer)

Disclaimer: Nuh uh. Nope. Sorry. But I bet if you ask real nice-like whoever they do belong to will loan 'em out. And the song belongs to David Bowie. Listen to it. It's nice. It's called (duh) _A Better Future_. It's on his new album, Heathen.

Summery: Angsty m/r. What else? Don't like it, don't read it.

Notes: Wrote this last summer. Wanted to do a Bowie songfic. Went through all the inlays I had trying to find a good one. This is the results. Oh, and about Roger… I'm sorry. He overreacts at times. At least two times in this fic alone. *pets rockstar* He doesn't mean it, he's just scared.

_Italics_= Lyrics

Rating: PG-13

**_~*~ A Better Future ~*~_**

_Please don't tear this world asunder / Please take back this fear we're under / I demand a better future / Or I might just stop wanting you / I might just stop wanting you  
  
Tears ran down Mark's face as he examined himself in the mirror. Roger had never been as bad as he was that night. On occasion there was a slap or two, but no slap could have formed the bruises that were appearing on the meek filmmaker's face. Unlike most in his situation, Mark was not thinking about the pain or about how to get away from Roger. Mark softly touched his own cheek, 'Why did I tonight? What torment is Roger going through? What is he thinking? What is he feeling?'  
  
The events of the evening began to play out in the bohemian's mind as he sank into a sitting position. His head rested on the cool lip of the bathtub as the thoughts drifted through his thoughts.  
  
It had been an almost ordinary day. Almost. Mark had done some filming, and Roger was out with the band. Mark, who had actually accomplished more work, got home hours before Roger. This was not uncommon. The humble young man always used this time to sort out the tangled mess he called his brain. On that day, the first thing that came into his mind was Roger.  
  
_Please make sure we get tomorrow / All this pain, all this sorrow / I demand a better future / Or I might just stop needing you / I might just stop needing you  
_  
What did this mean? What was he supposed to figure out about Roger? He knew everything he needed to. Roger. His roommate Roger. His roommate Roger who needed him so. His roommate Roger who he needed too. His sweet roommate Roger who he needed. His sweet, loving Roger who he needed more then air. His sweet, loving, charming Roger who without life would cease to exist. His sweet, loving, charming, and beautiful Roger who he loved.  
  
Mark blinked. He knew he loved Roger, but now he realized. it was a deeper love then he ever imagined. It wasn't the love you'd have for a brother, but instead a love Mark had been searching for his whole life. The yin to his yang. A soulmate. A lover.  
  
As Mark marveled over his newfound love, Roger walked in and slammed the door shut. He plopped onto the couch where Mark had been sitting, growling furiously. The filmmaker looked over to the musician, "R-roger? Is… is everything all right?"  
  
_Give my children sunny smiles / Give them warm and cloudless skies / I demand a better future / Or I might just stop loving you / I might just stop loving you  
_  
"It's nothing. I'm fine."  
  
Mark brushed a piece of hair out of Roger's face, staring into his piercing eyes. They reminded him of the Hindu goddess Kali. Full of creativity and passion, yet at the same time were capable of mass destruction. "You're lying."  
  
"No I'm not Mark just forget abou-"  
  
Roger was cut off, for Mark could no longer control himself. Maybe if they kissed, he had thought, their souls would connect, and not only would he know what was wrong with Roger, but the pretty-boy front-man would know Mark's true feelings.  
  
_When you talk / We talk too / When you walk / We walk too_  
  
Roger thrust his roommate off of him fiercely. Mark went flying to the floor, looking up at his love, frightened. Roger leapt upon him, hitting him in any way possible at the time. The punches did not even seem to faze Mark, who was only hearing Roger's battle cry. "FUCKING FAGGOT!!!! YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!!!" This bombardment went on for a good five to ten minutes, concluding with an enraged Roger storming out of the loft, leaving the broken figure of Mark trembling on the floor.  
  
After Roger fled, he did quite a bit more physical damage. He punched in the hallway wall, knocked over many trash cans, and walked down the streets of New York screaming like a lunatic.  
  
Soon he found himself back outside of the apartment building, but he knew he was still to angryconfused to go back in. He also knew Mark would most likely never allow him within his sight again. So he walked over to the abandoned lot across the street. He had some thinking to do.  
  
_From factory to field / How many tears must fall / Down here below / Nothing is moving_  
  
Soon after Roger had left, Mark passed out. He was down for several hours. The exact time was impossible to tell.  
  
After waking, Mark curled into a ball. He had no strength, and in his mind rang over and over Roger's words to him. Faggot? Was he, Mark Cohen, a homosexual? He had never considered that. in his mind, he was in love with his best friend. Gender was of no matter. Soon he found himself stumbling to the bathroom.  
  
_I might just stop wanting you / I might just stop needing you / I might just stop loving you  
_  
Mark had just finished going over the story in his head when he heard the door slam. Roger was home. Another slam. And had locked himself in his room. Unfortunately, Mark could not hear the muffled sobs through the wooden door.  
  
What was the timid man to do? In his mind, there were three options. One, he could retreat to his room and they both could pretend like nothing had happened. Two, one of the two boho boys could move out and their friendship would be over. And finally three, Mark could do what he had never dared to before and confront Roger. Normally he would return to his room, and occasionally Roger would move out for a week or two, always coming back. But this time was different. Mark knew it, and Roger knew it. Things had changed permanently.  
  
Mark opened the bathroom door, dashing over to Roger's. He didn't bother going in, knowing Roger was sitting up against it. "Roger. I don't know what the FUCK is the matter with you today, but you had no FUCKING right to hit me!" You could hear the anger and sadness in the filmmaker's voice. He was near tears again. "When have you ever hated gay people? Collins, Joanne, Angel. Maureen? You **never** laid a finger on them, so why me? All I ever did wrong was LOVE YOU! My best friend, someone I couldn't live without! So what does he do when I show him how I feel? HE BEATS ME!" Mark kicked the door, soon afterward hearing the groan of his roommate. "Roger… this wasn't like you." His voice had softened, "You never hurt me this badly before… your words were like I was being stabbed with your hatred. This wasn't a normal fight, Roger. Things are going to change, whether you like it or not. I don't want to loose you… I demand a better future." He placed a hand upon the door, and slowly sat down, leaning against the door that separated him from his love.  
  
_I demand a better future / I demand a better future / I demand a better future / For I might just stop loving you / Loving you, loving you  
_  
The door creaked open, and there stood Roger. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears, and in his hand he held a razor. Mark had made it in time. When the musician saw his injured friend, he dropped the blade and took his friend in his arms. "Oh Mark… what have I done? I… I am so sorry. Oh… you're shaking like a leaf." He reached out his hand and grabbed a comforter that had been lying nearby, wrapping Mark in it. He held him close, letting the vulnerable Mark sob on his shoulder.  
  
"Mark…?" The singer got no response, but continued. "I have a confession… today, when you kissed me… I was scared. You know how my dad is about gays… I wondered what would happen if he found out I was in love with a man… I was worried about Mimi would do when I told her I was leaving her for you… and I mainly was worried about what would happen to you after I go. I knew that if I let you go on I would never want to let you go… because I love you too, Mark. I always have… I was just too scared to tell you."  
  
Mark's arms tightened around Roger, and his breathing calmed slightly. Roger pulled him closer, his mind still racing. What would Mark do when the awful disease that plagued Roger's body finally finished him off? Or what if his delicate artist tested positive because of him? As if Mark could read his thoughts, he brushed his lips against his friend's before letting the kiss linger. All the bad things that Roger had ever thought evaporated. All that mattered was the man sitting in his lap.  
  
_I demand a better future / I demand a better future / I demand a better future / Or I might just stop loving you / Loving you, loving you  
_  
The battered Mark sighed, clinging to Roger. "Never leave me again."  
  
The musician smiled, "I won't, my marvelous, magnificent Mark."  
  
Mark smiled, exhaling softly, "Does that make you my Roger?"  
  
They shared another lovely kiss. Both of them had found what they needed. They needed someone. And that someone had to be able to fulfill the two things they both craved… love and happiness. They needed each other.  
  
_I demand a better future.__

~fin~


End file.
